Stille Nacht 1940
by marylinusca
Summary: Corporal LeBeau encounters two Germans while attempting to escape on Christmas eve.


Stille Nacht  1940 

_The story behind Sergeant Schultz's Christmas tradition is found in Patti and Marg's story "Game Preserver."  I encourage you to read it._

_The characters in the television series "Hogan's Heroes" are not owned by this author._

_From Family Matters Chapter 4 "Interlude": _

_ "I have a confession to make. Mademoiselle la Docteurice, I met you once before, one Christmas eve."_

_Doktor Falke's eyes widened. "I don't recall it, Corporal LeBeau."_

_"It was without your knowledge, and it was three years ago. In 1940, before Colonél Hogan was shot down and this operation was begun. …. _

_"1940 was when France fell to les Boches and was torn in two by them. I had been captured, had escaped, was re-captured, again escaped and was again re-captured. I was determined even then to join the Resistance, but as I was always recaptured before I was able to do so…._

_"That December, I endeavoured to escape again. Again I was re-captured; but I was injured in the shoulder and taken to the hospital."_

_*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*_

"Emil! Don't eat that!" The woman snatched the chocolate from the little boy's hand.  Startled, Emil and Schultz stared at the fury in the lab coat.  Then little Emil started bawling. 

"Now look what you have done!"  The sparks from the woman's dark blue eyes made the Luftwaffle guard recoil in pain.

"What I have done?" Schultz protested. "All I did was offer him a nut chocolate bar.  You took it away from him."

"Of course I did!  Emil is extremely allergic to nuts.  From the smallest bite, he would go into anaphylactic shock and die."

Schultz stared at her. His mouth dropped open. "I did not know, Schwester..."  His eyes took in the woman's stethoscope, her lack of a cap, her air of authority and her angry eyes.  "Enschultigung, Frau… Fraulein…"

"Fraulein Doktor Maria Helena Falke," she replied in clipped tones, surveying him from head to foot with a look that froze the air.  "And you are?"

"Schultz, Fraulein Doktor.  Oberfeldwebel Hans Schultz.  Stalag Luft Dreizehn." Schultz answered meekly. "I am very sorry.  I meant no harm, Fraulein Doktor. I only meant to make the little ones feel better."

"Oberfeldwebel, you should _know_ better.  Do your soldiers offer your prisoners things they should not have?  Shovels?  Pickaxes?  Explosives?"

"Aber nein!  Of course not!"

"Well then, do not offer dangerous things to the little ones."  She turned to the little boy.  Her voice softened. "Emil, do not cry, bitte.  Herr Schultz meant you no harm.  He did not know that some foods are verboten to you."

She motioned forward a nurse hovering just inside the door.  The nurse timidly held out a box of digestive biscuits.   Doktor Falke took the box from her hands and showed it to Schultz. 

"Bring these the next time you visit us, Herr Oberfeldwebel, and obtain permission from the nurse in charge before you offer your treats to the children," she said, relaxing her stern demeanour a little further.

She opened the box and, after giving one cookie to the little boy, offered the open box to him.

Schultz took a cookie and bit into it. "Danke, Fraulein Doktor."

Doktor Falke cocked her head slightly, as if she was trying to recall where she had previously seen him. "I'm beginning my rounds, Herr Oberfeldwebel. Would you like to join me?"

She smiled slightly and motioned with her hand. "Those deep pockets, bulging with candies you so generously brought. We cannot let them be wasted.  Perhaps we can find one that Emil can eat."

She smiled a little more warmly as she took in his incredulous expression. "Your sweets are meant for _all_ the children, ja?  Not just for Emil?"

Schultz found his voice. "Ja, Fraulein Doktor. I brought for all.  I - I meant them no harm."

The physician nodded. "I have to be strict, for my patients' welfare.  Not every thing, or every one, that _looks_ safe _is_ safe."

"Ja, Fraulein Doktor. Ich verstehen Sie."

Her cheeks dimpled. "Not everyone here is allergic to nuts and chocolate, Herr Oberfeldwebel. Or to your kindness of heart."

Schultz's eyes twinkled as he smiled and offered his arm.

Doktor Falke lifted her forefinger. "I will look at Emil first.  Then at your pockets, mein Herr."

While the physician examined the little boy, the guard emptied his pockets and haversack on a table in the far corner. Emil watched eagerly as the nurse picked through the assorted candies and little toys.

Doktor Falke could not help smiling at the delight on his face when the nurse came to them with three candies and a tiny top.  She nodded her permission, and as she nodded, a memory floated across her mind, too late to snatch.  A memory of a big man and toys.

_Santa Claus?_  Was she thinking of the huge Eaton's Christmas Parade she saw in Toronto, so very long ago?  

She shook her head again.  No.  This memory was recent. It had to have occurred in Germany.  In Heidelburg.

She looked at this man again. Heidelburg and toys. That meant only one place.

Hans Schultz felt Doktor Falke's glance. He too was puzzling over a memory.  Restuffing his haversack, he surreptitiously turned and looked at her long skirt. Women did not wear their skirts to the ankle, yet this woman did.  Her dark blue eyes were also familiar. He vaguely recalled seeing a woman who resembled her at the Open House he had held at the Schatze Toy Company two years ago. A woman, all alone, standing in front of the display case, staring wistfully down at a little wind up dog.  A woman with chestnut brown hair, wearing a long blue skirt.  A serious woman, with dark blue eyes.

"Well, Emil. You are making rapid progress." Doktor Falke scanned the chart.  Her cheeks dimpled again as she looked up at him. "Telephone Emil's parents, Schwester.  He may go home tomorrow."

She acknowledged Emil's whoop of joy and the nurse's nod of compliance, then turned to the soldier. "Herr Oberfeldwebel… ?"

Schultz straightened to attention and again offered her his arm.  She took it calmly.

They walked from the room in silence: Doktor Falke trying to recall where she had seen the guard, Schultz a little nervous about recalling himself to her.

She stopped him with a slight pressure on his sleeve.  "Mein Herr, I do not mean to be impolite, but … have we met before?  In Heidelburg?"

Schultz swallowed. "In Heidelburg.  Ja, Fraulein Doktor. At the Schatze Toy Company."

Marlena Falke's eyes widened. "You are Herr Schultz.  _The_ Herr Schultz. The owner."

"I _was_ the owner," he admitted.

"What happened?"

The question came out too abruptly. "Please, forgive me, Herr Schultz. I was rude and thoughtless."  She bit her lip. What she said sounded like criticism of the military. The last thing she wanted was for him to inform on her to his superiors, who would inform the Gestapo.

She tried to cover her blunder.   "You are very patriotic, Herr Schultz. The owner of the largest toy company in Germany, enlisting in the Vaterland's army."

Schultz looked around nervously.  Then he bent and whispered in her ear, "I _had_ to give up my factory to the government. They are making guns and rifles there now." 

Doktor Falke looked at him, aghast.

"They closed the Schatze Toy Company?  The largest and finest toy company in Germany, shut down to make rifles?"

"Ja, Fraulein Doktor."  Schultz shuddered and clamped his mouth shut.  The memory of how the S.S. Sturmbannfuehrer had humiliated him was still too painful to dwell upon.

Doktor Falke continued to stare at him, too stunned to speak.  _Didn't the Nazis even think about the children?_  

Her eyes dropped to his pockets and haversack, bulging with treats and toys.  She slowly raised them to his sad, full-moon face.

"My family, and the Schatze Toy Company, would give toys to the children in the orphanages and hospitals at Christmastime, Fraulein Doktor.  I no longer have my factory; but I still have the tradition."

Doktor Falke thought again of the T. Eaton Company's Santa Claus Parade. It was Toronto's annual Christmas tradition. Floats and bands down University Avenue. Music and colour and life and joy. Oh, how homesick she felt for Canada!  For those scamps Frank and Johnny from Harbord Collegiate, and how they would tease her to make her laugh out loud while she shelved books in the library every Saturday.  (They could have got her sacked, and she needed every cent she earned; but they were so droll and she missed them so much.)  For snowball fights with the dental and engineering students in front of Hart House.  For sharing her studies and cadaver with Willy Hodges, that red haired boy with the merry eyes. For the freedom to think what she pleased and to speak her mind.  For wild, gleeful, honest happiness.  For a friend.

Schultz reached into his pocket and pulled out the nut chocolate bar. He offered it to Doktor Falke.

She took it, thanked him, broke it and offered him half.

_There really is a Santa Claus, Mr. Eaton.  I'm looking at him now._

She felt warmth course through her as she nibbled the chocolate. It was a warmth she had almost forgotten how to feel. "When must you return to your Luftstalag, mein Herr?"

Schultz looked alarmed at the flush of excitement in her face. "Not until late tonight.  Why, Fraulein Doktor?"

She pulled on his hand. Her eyes shone. "Come. The Marktplatz is still open, Herr Schultz.  I must remain here; but I will give you the money. Buy Apfelsaft, and cookies, and fruits.  Colourful fruits.  You already have the candies. We will celebrate Christmas in style, mein Herr.  We will celebrate it as we should, with the children."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Corporal LeBeau slipped though the corridors. He could not understand what was going on in this hospital – this burst of Christmas celebration; but it fit well for his plans to escape and join the Free French.

He cradled his casted arm against his chest, patting the Luger hidden within the sling.

Why had he thought he could escape from a moving truck?  It seemed like a good idea at the time. His two guards were ogling the pictures in their 'Strength Through Joy' magazine.  The truck had slowed down as it approached a railway crossing and the woods were nearby. It was a heaven sent opportunity and he took it. A pity that he misjudged the truck's speed and how high the truckbed was from the ground.

Broken arm or no, broken ribs or no, he was going to escape this time.  He had been in four prison camps since his capture the previous spring, and he no intention of seeing the interior of this Stalag Thirteen.

His guards had been too intent on flirting with the nurses to notice that he had not swallowed his sleeping draught. It had been a simple matter to feign sleep and, when they left to crash the party in the children's ward, to pour it into their open bottles of Schnapps.

When they returned, they immediately drank their Schnapps to the dregs.  That and their own drunkenness had put them out almost instantly.  They snored like the pigs they were, he thought with a sneer.  The only tricky part of the escape thus far had been removing their guns from their holsters.

Corporal LeBeau heard the sounds of tired children.  He smiled at their happy voices, and at their sleepy protests against being put to bed.  Then he scowled at his soft heartedness.  These were Boche children, he reminded himself.  Still, their voices were good sounds to hear. They meant that the nurses would be too busy to notice one small adult slipping past them.

Cautiously, the French corporal crept past each open doorway.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt cold air against his face. That meant he was near an exit to the outside.  Soon he would be through it and free.

Then LeBeau heard the voices and movements of two adults approaching the junction of this corridor and the one from the children's ward. He ducked into the nearest closet, keeping the door slightly ajar so he could see who was coming.

A woman in a long skirt and a fat soldier in Luftwaffe uniform passed by.  The woman was thanking the fat soldier for his kindness and generosity.  The fat one was buttoning his overcoat.  Apparently he was leaving the hospital.

LeBeau waited until their voices had almost died away.  Then he left the closet and followed them, his hand on the grip of the pistol.  Those two would lead him to the outer door.  He would control what happened to them afterward. 

_^*^*^*^*^_

Reaching up on tiptoe, Doktor Falke kissed the guard's cheek. "Vielen Danke, Herr Schultz."  She gave him a look of mock severity. "I am glad that you visited us; but remember, mein Herr.  Next time you call with your treats, get the permission of the nurse in charge before you hand them out."

He beamed at her. "Jawohl, Fraulein Doktor. Vielen Danke for letting me carry out my family's tradition."

"A kind and generous tradition, Herr Saint Nicholas," she gently replied. "May it never die.  Auf Wiedersehen.  Fröhliche Weihnachten."

"Fröhliche Weihnachten, Fraulein Doktor. I am so happy we met again."  He looked down at her half wistful half sombre face and saw the lonely woman who had watched the mechanical dog perform its tricks in his factory two years ago.  A lifetime ago.  He impulsively hugged her.  

Ducking into the cloakroom, out of their sight, LeBeau watched Doktor Falke wave Sergeant Schultz goodbye.

The sergeant was nice to play Pere Noel for the children, he mused. Then he scowled.  Why am I suddenly so soft-hearted for a lousy Boche?

He waited for the doctor to pass by on her way back to wherever in the hospital she was supposed to be.  And waited.

He grew impatient.  He had to escape now. He did not know how long the drugged Schnapps would keep his guards insensible.

Drawing the pistol from the sling and releasing the safety catch, he poked his head through the doorway.

He did not want to shoot the woman. The Boche guard had called her 'Fraulein Doktor'.  She was a physician.  A person dedicated to healing, to saving lives.  He had met few such people lately.

No. He did not want to hurt her. But she was blocking his route of escape.  He desperately wanted to escape.  It was all he dreamed about, all he thought about.  Escape to freedom and the Free French.  Escape to liberate his homeland.

Gritting his teeth, LeBeau moved a pace toward her.

Doktor Falke leaned against the doorframe of the staff entrance.  In the distance, she saw the silhouette of the bell tower of the Marienkirche.  All was dark and still. As dark and as still as a graveyard.  She wondered where the night watch was.  She was showing a light to the enemy, leaving the outer door open; but no one had threatened to fine her. 

The night watch was apparently celebrating Christmas; but what Christmas was there to celebrate?

She checked her watch in the dim light.  Ten o'clock. She remembered the first Christmas she had spent in Germany, in Heidelberg, the year before the war began. She knew that at midnight, if there had been peace on earth, the bells in that tower, and in every bell tower across Germany, would have rung in Christmas Day.

_'I heard the bells on Christmas Day / Their old familiar carols play / And wild and sweet / The words repeat / Of 'Peace on Earth Goodwill to Men.'_

She heaved a sigh.  Would she ever see 'peace on earth'?  And what sort of peace would it be?

She had seen more than she had wanted to see of the Nazi Reich.  She had witnessed Jews and dissenters – anyone who was different or believed differently from what the Nazi government decreed – taken away and never heard from again. People like her co-religionists: forced into the army against their wills, or taken away to punishment camps when they continued to resist the conscription. Because they believed 'Thou shalt not kill' meant 'Thou shalt not kill anyone.' Other people who opposed this wicked tyranny, even with guns and bombs.  People who hid those people hunted by the secret police.  People who hid the Jews and other innocents, and who smuggled them from one hiding place to the next.  People like Herr Schnitzer, who did the same for the enemy fliers trapped here.

She had turned away, sickened and helpless, just as her neighbours had done.  People, good and not so good, were afraid to speak, even before their families.  Children were taught to believe Hitler was a benevolent father of his people, even to worship him instead of God.

She recalled the blasphemous 'Christmas' card she had received the previous week, with a swastika shining down in place of the Star of Bethlehem. How could a people whose ancestors wrote wonderful music in praise of God – people with the same bloodlines as Bach and Handel and as Luther and others who stood against tyrants who tried to shut their mouths – how could they have become so vile?  So craven?  And she was no better than them.

 Should she settle for that sort of peace that was no peace at all?  A peace that killed? A peace that let souls writhe in torment? A peace that tormented her own soul?  She could not settle for such a 'peace'; but war was wrong, insane, murder.  She was taught to believe that.  She believed it still.  But she could not stand by and pretend she did not see the suffering.  Yet, she was doing exactly that, in order to stay alive. 

But to kill for peace?  No.  It was madness. There had to be another way.  She had to find it, or she would herself go mad.

Or were she and Herr Schultz already mad, because they wanted people to act good and kind to each other?

What was happening to the world?  Was this the time of tribulations foretold in the Bible?  Heaven help the world if it was.  Heaven help the world if that time was yet to come.

LeBeau watched the woman bend her head and put her hands up to her face.  Now he could slip by her, while she could not see him.  If she did, he would threaten to shoot her.  Must he then shoot her?  She was too distraught to resist or cry an alarm.

But he did not move.  He stood there, watching her as she struggled for composure.  He pitied her unhappiness. 

_What was wrong with me?  She's German.   She's Boche. _ Yet, he wanted to comfort her.

She's not like one of them.  She cares for those children.  She's afraid of what she sees.

LeBeau shook himself.  _Bah.  Even monsters cared for their own_.

But he knew what she was thinking.  He had known it when he saw her stare at the silent bell tower.  The bells across Europe should be ringing in the birth of the Prince of Peace.  But the bells did not ring. There was no peace.  Not in the world.  Not in the woman's heart.  Not in his own heart.

Yet this Boche woman longed for peace.  A true peace.  He could see that she was torn by her feelings.

And that fat Boche guard came with his bonbons to cheer the sick children. He had played Pere Noël for the little ones. He was not celebrating his Weihnachten by drinking schnapps like those stupid guards.  The fat Boche had looked sad too, as if he had wanted to do more for those children, but could not.  As if he too regretted what monsters they were turning into.

_Enough of this_, LeBeau thought, gripping his pistol.  _I'm going to escape, even if I have to shoot an unarmed woman._  He moved forward and aimed it at her, waiting for her to turn.  For some reason, he did not want to shoot her unaware.

But she did not turn.  She was again staring at the bell tower, as if she was praying.

They stood unmoving. Everything seemed silent. No bombing.  No sirens. No shouts or screams.  Just a stillness.

An empty stillness, like a vacuum? The stillness of a cemetery? Of a field after battle, strewn with corpses?

A breath bated stillness, like the quiet before a thunderstorm? Like the silence before the screams of pain and anger, the last quiet moment before the fight begins when you tell yourself that you must win, because to lose would be to die.

Or was it the stillness of a tiny baby asleep and content beneath its snow white blanket?  The stillness of a Blessed Child who had breathed the same air as they now did, who had committed Himself to give them the peace they craved.

LeBeau lowered the gun.  It suddenly felt too heavy in his hand.  He could not shoot a person who was trying to do good.  Not at Christmas.

_It would be unlucky to kill someone at Christmas_, he reasoned with himself. _Why should I jeopardize my luck? The fat guard had said he was from Stalag Thirteen.  He looked stupid. All I have to do is watch him, and wait for when he is alone on duty.  I can easily slip past him, and he is too fat to chase me.  Somehow, I do not believe that he has the heart to shoot me, or to shoot anyone._

_Oui. D'accord.  I will go to this Stalag Thirteen and I will await my chance to escape from there._

Corporal Louis LeBeau looked at Fraulein Doktor Maria Helena Falke as he slowly, carefully, backed away from her, into the hospital.  _Le Bon Dieu keep you safe, mademoiselle __l'docteurice. May He give you the peace you desire.  You do not know how close you came to seeing His Face tonight._


End file.
